


follow the desire that burns from within

by CreatePeaceFromChaos



Series: Timbitat's Quarantine Bingo [8]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Sex, Aphrodisiacs, Crying, Cunnilingus, Deepthroating, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Undertones, Face-Fucking, Fae Jaskier | Dandelion, Foursome - M/M/M/M, Fuck Or Die, M/M, Multi, Multiple Orgasms, Non-Human Jaskier | Dandelion, Oral Sex, Overstimulation, Praise Kink, Riding, Rough Oral Sex, Sex Pollen, Spanking, Sub Lambert (The Witcher), Trans Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-24
Updated: 2020-07-24
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:14:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25485292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CreatePeaceFromChaos/pseuds/CreatePeaceFromChaos
Summary: Lambertknewhe couldn't trust Keira fucking Metz. Her appearing out of nowhere, blowing a handful of purple powder in his face, and then shoving him through a portal, was just par for the fucking course by now.That powder, though... itburned, even after he got rid of it. Thankfully Geralt's bard was nearby to help him to Kaer Morhen, and luckily Geralt, Eskel, and Jaskier were all able and willing to help him through the effects of the powder.
Relationships: Eskel/Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion/Lambert
Series: Timbitat's Quarantine Bingo [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1830388
Comments: 13
Kudos: 246





	follow the desire that burns from within

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CloudSpeck](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CloudSpeck/gifts).



> Sex pollen fic!! Technically an aphrodisiac fic, but this was what I ended up with. For my quarantine bingo, the square being "aphrodisiacs"
> 
> Title from Halestorm's "I Am The Fire"
> 
> CloudSpeck requested something with Lambert for this prompt, and I believe I have delivered!
> 
> Slight spoiler: in this, a transman's genitals are referred to as "cock" and "cunt", which I have been told is ok for some but not for others. My apologies if this squicks anyone.  
> Also Lambert is a brat with a praise kink and nothing can change my mind on that.

He fucking _knew_ he shouldn’t have trusted Keira’s supposed forgiveness. Fuckin’ bitch had had it out for him ever since he’d realised she was no good and called off their fuck-buddy arrangement. Oh, she played the long game and made it seem like she wasn’t offended anymore, but then when his guard was down she’d done _this_ – popped up in front of him via portal on the road, blown a dark purple powder in his face, and then shoved him through a second portal while he was coughing and trying to get rid of the powder.

He didn’t know where he was, though it had to be further north since he’d landed flat in a snowbank when he’d been shoved through the portal, and he was swearing – at Keira, at the universe in general, at the fucking powder that felt like it was burning even though he’d scrubbed it off with a few handfuls of snow – when he heard someone approaching. He jerked back up onto his feet, reaching for a dagger as he blinked burning eyes and turned a snarl towards the person.

The footsteps paused, the stranger inhaled a sharp, quick breath, and then a colourfully-dressed human man stepped past the tree line. He couldn’t be much past his twenties – smooth skin, rich brown hair, bright blue eyes – but he held absolutely no fear as he approached. Lambert scented the air, still glaring through burning eyes, his nose and throat and mouth all feeling itchy and raw – but there was still no fear scent. This human wasn’t scared of him… couldn’t he see he was a Witcher?

“You look like you’ve had a rough time of it, my friend,” the human said, strolling closer. He paused just out of Lambert’s reach and offered a flourishing bow. “I am Jaskier the bard, ser Witcher. And, going from that medallion, you must know my friend Geralt.”

Geralt.

Lambert lowered the dagger he still held, though only a little.

“You’re Geralt’s bard, then. He nearby?” He didn’t know what this powder was going to do to him – he felt too hot and his clothes felt like they were constricting his breathing and it was just getting _worse_ , the burning was _spreading_ – and he needed someone he knew was _safe_.

Geralt’s bard was safe, sure, because Geralt trusted him, but Lambert didn’t know him yet.

“He is not, I’m afraid.” There was a pause, and Jaskier frowned, stepping closer. “Are you well?” Lambert barked out a harsh laugh.

“Fuckin’ bitch sorceress fuckin’ _drugged me_ or some shit.”

“Well with a mouth like that you must be Lambert.” Lambert laughed again, short and sharp and barely amused, and Jaskier leaned a little closer. “Your pupils are very wide right now. She drugged you, you say?”

“Yeah, some kind of powder. Blew it in my face and dumped me here, the bitch,” Lambert grumbled, tugging at his collar. Fuck, he was getting way too hot. What _was_ that powder?

“That does not sound good.” Jaskier hesitated, pulled a face, and then said, “I can get you closer to Kaer Morhen? Geralt should be there by now.”

“And how are you gonna do that?” Lambert demanded. Jaskier waved a hand, and Lambert reared back as his medallion vibrated and a warm wind swirled around them both. “The fuck?!”

“Fey, my dear. Partially, at least. I cannot get us inside the keep, but I can get us within a half-day’s travel.” Lambert wanted to say no, but the heat was getting stronger, becoming more unbearable.

“Fine. Get me there.” Jaskier smiled, stepped closer, grasped Lambert by the elbow, and then they were gone.

Eskel was getting worried. Lambert usually made it to Kaer Morhen around the same time as he did, but it’d been days and Geralt had arrived and _still no Lambert._ Vesemir was spending a lot of time watching the path leading up to the keep, Geralt was pacing near the gates, and Eskel had taken to doing as many tasks as he could in the courtyard.

There were few enough of them that losing even one would be a crippling blow. And to lose _Lambert_ , their youngest, the one who brought so much energy to Kaer Morhen in winter (even before Eskel and Geralt toppled into bed with him) – that would _devastate_ them.

The fifth day after Geralt’s arrival, Vesemir appeared in the courtyard.

“Open the gates,” the old Witcher barked. “Someone’s carrying Lambert up the path.”

“Carrying him?” Eskel demanded, even as he hurried to help Geralt open the huge doors.

“Looked like,” Vesemir replied. “On your guard.”

The doors swung open, and a few moments later a man in blue came into view, Lambert draped over his back.

“Jaskier?” Geralt muttered, and strode out to meet the approaching figures halfway. Eskel was hot on his heels. “What are you doing here?”

“Nice to see you too, Geralt,” the man in blue, Jaskier – wasn’t that Geralt’s bard? – shot back, voice heavy with sarcasm. Lambert lifted his head, and Eskel frowned at the sight of his wide, semi-glazed pupils and flushed face. He was panting, too, the sound no longer muffled by his face being pressed into Jaskier’s shoulder. “He said he’d been drugged, so I thought it best to get him here as quickly as I could.”

“Bring him in,” Vesemir ordered, and Jaskier moved forward before Eskel or Geralt could take Lambert from him. Eskel exchanged a worried glance with Geralt and they followed the bard and their youngest back into the courtyard, heaving the doors shut behind them as Vesemir examined Lambert.

His head was aching, his entire body felt far too hot, and he was achingly hard in his trousers. Jaskier hadn’t said anything about it, not even when Lambert had stopped being able to walk and had been slung over Jaskier’s back instead, but it was persistent and difficult to focus around. He’d lifted his head when he’d heard Geralt’s voice, wanting the safety his white-haired brother always brought, but it was still hard to focus. He could see Geralt and Eskel and Vesemir, and he leaned into the cold touch of Vesemir’s hand on his face when the old grump grasped his chin and peered at his face.

“It’s rare for anything to have this kind of effect on a Witcher,” Vesemir murmured, frowning. “Can you focus on me, pup?” Lambert nodded, panting a little, still draped over Jaskier’s back and dragging in breaths of the cold winter air.

“He said it was a powder, but he’d scrubbed it off with snow by the time I came across him,” Jaskier offered. Vesemir was still frowning, but his hand was still cool on Lambert’s face and Lambert felt _far too warm_ and his heart was beating far too quickly and it was _hurting._

“What colour, pup?” Vesemir demanded. “And who did it?”

“Dark purple,” Lambert managed to groan out. It hurt to speak, lungs burning just as much as his body was. “Fuckin’ _Keira_ ambushed me. It burns.”

Vesemir swore – and if Lambert didn’t feel like he was dying he would be taking notes, he’d never heard _that_ saying before – and started stalking towards the keep.

“Get him in a bed and strip him!” the old Witcher called back. “And get him comfortable!”

“What is it?” Eskel called back after Vesemir, and Lambert whined a little as Geralt’s big, familiar hands plucked him off Jaskier’s back. He didn’t want to let go of the bard, but Geralt was safe and familiar and so Lambert curled into Geralt’s hold with only the whine as a protest.

“A fucking aphrodisiac!” Vesemir hollered back, and vanished into the keep.

“Oh,” Jaskier said, sounding like he’d just realised something. “Oh dear. I think I know what it is – Vesemir is correct, you need to make him comfortable. This is not going to be kind to him.” Lambert whined again – that sounded like Jaskier was going to leave, and he didn’t want that. He reached towards the bard, and Jaskier stepped closer and grasped his hand, placing the other on his cheek. Lambert opened his eyes – when had he shut them? – and looked at the bard. “You aren’t too far into it yet, my dear. Within the next few hours you will no longer be able to think clearly, so you need to let Geralt and Eskel know _now_ what you want.”

“’n’ you?” Lambert managed, and Jaskier’s eyes softened.

“If you want me to stay, yes. And me.”

“Stay,” Lambert agreed, and then a surge of heat – the third he’d experienced so far but still just as painful as the first two – hit him and he curled up tighter in Geralt’s hold, groaning through grit teeth. He felt like he’d taken a fuckin’ wyvern’s tail to the gut.

“Get him inside and comfortable,” Jaskier said, sounding urgent. “This might be hitting him faster than it does humans.” Geralt started moving and Lambert could hear Jaskier and Eskel walking with him. “We’re going to need a lot of water.”

Lambert let himself drift as Geralt said something, voice rumbling through the chest Lambert was pressed against, and as Eskel and Jaskier’s voices reached Lambert’s ears too the drugged Witcher focused on breathing as evenly as possible.

Fuckin’ _Keira Metz_. Next time he saw her, he was gonna stab her, sorceress or not.

Eskel got to Lambert’s room with two full pitchers of water just as Vesemir did, a slim leather-bound tome in one of the old Witcher’s hands.

“Good, the faeling recognised it then,” Vesemir said when he saw the water. “I’ll bring up more in the morning. By then it should be out of his system.” He opened Lambert’s bedroom door and entered, Eskel right behind him.

Eskel put the pitchers aside hurriedly, and moved over to the bed where Geralt was holding a now-naked Lambert tightly, the younger Witcher’s entire body flushed and sweating in a way that Eskel had never encountered before. Jaskier was beside them, hands combing through Lambert’s hair, murmuring soothing nonsense to him. Eskel sat on Lambert’s other side and touched his back lightly, startled by the deep groan that wrenched out of Lambert the second their skin touched.

“It’s called Succubus Tears, and the ingredients are hard to find. The process of making it is even harder, but it’s one of the few drugs outside our potions that work on us,” Vesemir said, holding out the thin tome to Jaskier. Jaskier took it, leafing through quickly and skimming over the words within. “You know of it, faeling?”

“Jaskier, please. Yes, my stepsiblings like dosing travellers with it and laughing as they fuck themselves to death,” the bard muttered, scowling. “It doesn’t work as well on non-humans, but it still works.”

“Witchers metabolise it faster but it’s still painful,” Vesemir said bluntly. Eskel was listening, but was focused more on how Lambert was panting and trembling in Geralt’s lap. “And it metabolises faster if the person drugged gives in to the urge to fuck.” If Eskel didn’t know Vesemir, he wouldn’t realise how uncomfortable this conversation was for him. “He should be able to think coherently for a bit longer, but then it’s going to hit him even harder, so sort shit out before then. All goes well it’ll be over by morning. I’ll be back then. If it’s still going, find a way to tell me.”

“I can do that,” Jaskier agreed. Vesemir nodded and left, shutting the door behind him, and Eskel turned his attention back to Lambert.

“Lambert?” Geralt rumbled, and Lambert made a noise of acknowledgement. “You heard all that?”

“Yeah.”

“Understood?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you want our help? All three of us?” Eskel asked, and Lambert _moaned_. It was hard to drag that kind of noise from him without a few hours of working him over, usually, but this drug was clearly affecting him.

_“Please.”_

That was clear enough, Eskel thought. And from the way sudden arousal flooded the air from Geralt and Jaskier, they agreed.

All three Witchers were _gorgeous_ , and if poor dear Lambert wasn’t drugged out of his senses then Jaskier would be in _heaven_. But he was, and so Jaskier kept his appreciation to a low burn, instead pulling some of the unscented oils he used specifically for bedroom activities out of his pack as Geralt and Eskel pressed Lambert between their now naked bodies.

Geralt was kissing Lambert, deep and slow and definitely in a way that was familiar to both of them, and Eskel’s mouth was on Lambert’s neck, trailing kisses down to the nape of Lambert’s neck where he then set his teeth and bit down slowly. A bolt of arousal shot through Jaskier – these three were so _beautiful_ together, and Jaskier would give _anything_ to be welcome with them.

“What first, then?” he asked as he climbed back onto the bed, keeping a little space between them until Lambert reached out to him without breaking his kiss with Geralt. Jaskier melted a little inside at the definite sign of Lambert wanting him there, and he moved closer so that Lambert could grab him.

“Is that oil?” Eskel asked, plucking the flask from Jaskier’s hold, and Jaskier nodded. “I’ll open him up, if you and Geralt want to keep him distracted.” Jaskier shivered a little at the thought.

“Sound plan,” he agreed, and almost yelped when he was tugged over to Geralt’s side. Geralt broke his kiss with Lambert, and Jaskier took the chance to dive in for a kiss of his own as Geralt and Eskel shifted and manipulated Lambert’s body how they desired. Jaskier was, he could admit, a little surprised when Geralt pressed up against him from behind, strong thighs either side of Jaskier’s hips, but he wasn’t complaining at the feeling of the man’s powerful body behind him while Eskel tugged Lambert back and down, rearranging him so that he was on his knees with his head on Jaskier’s thigh, his hot mouth panting right over Jaskier’s cock as Eskel settled behind Lambert’s raised ass and slicked his fingers liberally with the oil he’d taken from Jaskier.

Geralt’s mouth pressed against Jaskier’s neck, and he tilted his head to allow better access with a happy hum as Geralt’s arms went around him. Jaskier slid a hand into Lambert’s hair, scraping his blunt nails over the Witcher’s scalp as Lambert’s arms wrapped around Jaskier and Geralt’s thighs.

“Why don’t you get your mouth on Jaskier’s cock, Lambert,” Eskel suggested in an almost casual tone, one hand on one of Lambert’s cheeks as the other stroked over his hole. “Thank him for bringing you home to us.” Jaskier groaned almost in unison with Lambert’s whine, and then he gave a shout as Lambert’s hot mouth closed around his cock and took it almost all the way in a single bob of his head. It was slick and messy and hot and wet but _oh so good_ , and Jaskier let his head fall back on Geralt’s shoulder as Lambert moaned around his cock like it was the best he’d ever had. Which, considering Eskel’s thick, heavy cock, was a falsehood. In comparison to Eskel, Jaskier was _average_.

“He’s happiest when we order him around,” Geralt rumbled against Jaskier’s ear, and Jaskier groaned at the delicious mental image those words evoked. “Loves it when we pin him between us and use his ass and cock and mouth. He’s very good for us.”

“He’s a brat,” Eskel corrected, and Lambert moaned around Jaskier’s cock again when Eskel smacked his rear – just once – before rubbing the sting away. “But he’s ours. Always comes back to us every winter, like a good boy.” Lambert _keened_ , and Jaskier was unable to resist bucking into the wet heat of his throat at the vibration.

And Lambert just _took it_ , just rode the motion and _groaned_ , and it took almost all of Jaskier’s control to not just keep fucking his mouth until he came.

The purpose of all this was to _help_ Lambert, after all, not just for mutual pleasure. Though he _was_ hoping he’d get invited back into these Witchers’ beds again after this – but he wouldn’t let himself get too disappointed if they didn’t offer.

“He can take it,” Geralt murmured, and Jaskier groaned. Eskel was still stretching Lambert, though Jaskier couldn’t tell how many fingers were already inside the youngest Witcher, and Geralt’s hands were huge and strong on Jaskier’s thigh and chest. “He loves being face-fucked, can sometimes come just from having a cock in his throat.” Jaskier groaned, and this time didn’t stop his hips from thrusting up. True to Geralt’s word, Lambert took it easily, and moaned for more around Jaskier’s cock. He had his eyes shut, but looked utterly content as Jaskier’s cock slid in and out of his mouth. Jaskier kept his pace slow at first, testing and maybe teasing a little when Lambert started whining needily, until Geralt nipped the nape of his neck.

“He can take more,” Eskel said, voice incredibly calm, and Jaskier looked up from Lambert’s blissed-out face to see that Eskel was moving his hand in and out of Lambert ass at the same speed as Jaskier’s cock was fucking in and out of his mouth. “And it’s not like we’ll be stopping after the first time someone comes,” he added. Jaskier chuckled, unable to prevent it, and adjusted his grip on Lambert’s hair as he braced and then fucked up into his mouth and throat a few times. Eskel’s eyes remained fixed on his, and his hand matched Jaskier’s pace. Lambert keened, throat vibrating around the head of Jaskier’s cock, and the fae bard shouted in surprised pleasure as his orgasm ripped through him.

Lambert swallowed it all, and it wasn’t until Jaskier tugged hard on his hair, forcing him up, that he let Jaskier’s cock slip from his throat and mouth. He was still flushed, and now his lips were swollen red and spit-slick. He looked debauched, and little whining moans were falling from his lips as Eskel fucked – Jaskier checked – three fingers in and out of him with filthily wet noises.

Jaskier kept his hand in Lambert’s hair, but moved to the side willingly when Geralt nudged him to do so. And then Geralt’s hands curled around Lambert’s skull and tugged his face down to the junction of Geralt’s thick, muscular thighs.

Lambert could feel _everything,_ and he still wanted – needed – more. Jaskier had tasted so good in his mouth, felt so good in his throat, and Eskel’s fingers inside him were _almost_ enough for him to come without anyone touching his cock.

And then Geralt’s hands were on his head, pulling him forward and directly to where his cunt was wet and flushed and warm between his powerful thighs. Lambert went eagerly, burying his face between Geralt’s legs and eagerly licking a firm line over his cunt to where his cock poked out, red and painful-looking, from beneath its hood between Geralt’s folds. Geralt’s hands tightened on his head, and he moaned as he curled his tongue sloppily around the hypersensitive organ, suckling it and rubbing his tongue along it, relishing Geralt’s deep groan.

He was so focused on Geralt that he didn’t register what Eskel asked him, and when Eskel’s hand fell, hard, on his rear he jerked and clenched around Eskel’s fingers and yelped around Geralt’s cock, only moving back because Geralt’s hands on his head forced him to.

“I gave you an order, brat,” Eskel growled, and Lambert whined an apology. The hand that had spanked him rubbed over the tingling skin, soothing, as the other was removed from between his cheeks. “On your back.” Lambert struggled to obey, head spinning and entire body _burning_ with need, and three pairs of hands helped him move when his limbs wouldn’t cooperate.

His legs were flung over Eskel’s shoulders where his brown-haired brother was now standing at the foot of the bed, slicking up his fat cock with one hand while the other held Lambert’s reddened ass-cheek to the side. Jaskier gripped his wrists and drew them up over his head, holding him down with deceptive strength and looking almost predatory as he watched Geralt. And _Geralt_ … Lambert groaned, long and loud, as Geralt straddled his hips and grasped his achingly hard cock in one big hand, slicking it quickly and then guiding it to press against the utterly _wet_ entrance of his cunt. Geralt sank down a little, one hand pressing down on Lambert’s stomach firmly, and Lambert keened as he felt his tender cock-head push into Geralt’s _warm_ and slick hole.

Then Geralt’s hands were both on Lambert’s midsection, holding him down as he took Lambert into him in a burningly slow slide. Lambert let out a shaky breath that was almost a sob, gasping for air as his cock settled deep inside Geralt. Jaskier leaned over him and kissed his cheeks softly, and Lambert realised he had tears leaking from his eyes.

“Ger _alt_ , Eskel, please,” Lambert cried, tugging against Jaskier’s hold on his arms and almost sobbing when the bard didn’t even _twitch_.

And then Eskel’s cock was pushing against his hole, and just as the head sank inside him, Lambert let out a wail and came hard.

Eskel groaned behind Geralt as Lambert screamed and came, and Geralt ground down on the pulsing cock inside him, humming in satisfaction as Lambert’s spend slicked the movement even further than the oil and Geralt’s own arousal had. Jaskier was still holding down Lambert’s arms, wide-eyed and still hard despite having come down Lambert’s throat only a few minutes ago, and Geralt rocked on Lambert’s cock as he considered the possibility of having the bard winter here at the keep. It would be interesting to do this when Lambert wasn’t drugged, and maybe Geralt could finally get Jaskier’s head between his thighs like he’d been trying to hint at for the past five years.

Lambert’s thighs pressed against Geralt’s back, and he hummed and turned his head to kiss Eskel when the other Witcher pressed his chest to Geralt’s back. Eskel kissed him back, slow and just how Geralt liked it, tongues curling and stroking firmly against each other but never hurrying. Lambert was trembling beneath them both, and Geralt could hear Jaskier murmuring to him.

“…gorgeous boy, being so good for us all,” Jaskier crooned. Geralt rocked his hips, smirking a little against Eskel’s mouth at the dirty, wet sound of Lambert’s cock in his cunt, Lambert’s spend and Geralt’s slick making an utter mess on Geralt’s thighs and Lambert’s groin. Eskel chuckled quietly, pressing another kiss to Geralt’s mouth before he adjusted his position and his grip on Lambert’s thighs. He gave a slow but hard thrust, and Geralt groaned as the movement rocked Lambert’s cock up into him, his own hard cock rubbing against Lambert’s abs as he ground down in reaction.

He and Eskel set a steady pace, Eskel pulling back as Geralt rose and then both of them rocking back at the same time, Eskel thrusting deep as Geralt dropped onto Lambert’s cock. Both of them pretended to ignore the overstimulated whimpers and cries escaping the younger Witcher, working together to completely wreck him while Jaskier muttered praise and filthy suggestions in Lambert’s ear.

“Don’t they look magnificent like this?” Jaskier was saying, voice lower than Geralt had ever heard it and with a growl that he’d not expected of the bard. “Look how they take their pleasure from you. Doesn’t it look like they’re fucking each other through you? I bet they’re just as gorgeous without you in the middle, but you love it when they use you to fuck each other, don’t you?”

Lambert sobbed, and Jaskier kissed him hard, quick, and dirty, before pulling back and continuing his murmurs.

“You’re being so good for them, for us, darling. Letting them take what they want from you and giving yourself to us so prettily.” Lambert wailed, breaking off in a sob, tears rolling down his cheeks.

“Please, please, please,” fell from his lips repeatedly, head tossing about and entire body straining against the way the three of them were holding him down.

Geralt lost his rhythm, and growled as he fucked himself on Lambert harder and faster, bracing himself on Lambert as he rose and fell, thighs starting to ache, pleasure building up in his core and winding tighter and tighter. Eskel pressed up against his back, an arm winding around his waist, and Geralt slammed down and then rocked in miniscule grinding movements as Eskel mimicked the motion inside Lambert. Geralt let his head drop back onto Eskel’s shoulder, mouth pressing against his jaw and the scars that were so distinctively his. Eskel groaned, turning his head and tucking it against Geralt’s neck, and Geralt rode out the movements of his hips (and, subsequently, Lambert’s), desperately trying to reach his peak.

Lambert couldn’t do anything but whimper as his lovers used him for their pleasure, unable to think as Jaskier whispered praise and promises and suggestions in his ear. It was too much, but he wanted _more_ , needed it, desperately wanted to come again even though he was still sensitive from the first time. Geralt was so warm and wet around him, and Eskel was so thick and hard inside him, and he needed… he needed…

“Shh, darling,” Jaskier crooned as Geralt and Eskel settled into a quick, rough rhythm that was almost enough but not _quite_. “Shall I fuck your mouth again, darling?” Lambert keened. “Shall I use you as well?”

“Please,” Lambert managed, voice cracking and breaking, and Jaskier kissed his panting mouth hard before finally – _finally!_ – releasing his arms and then moving so he was straddling Lambert’s face. His cock brushed Lambert’s lips, and he took it in his mouth eagerly, hands coming up to grip Jaskier’s amazing ass and encourage him to give up all semblance of control and just _fuck him_ like Geralt and Eskel were doing.

Jaskier’s hands settled on his chest, and Lambert moaned as the bard’s cock slid into his throat without a pause.

Jaskier groaned as he was once again entirely encased in Lambert’s mouth and throat, Lambert’s hands on his ass and tugging him even _deeper_ as he sucked and swallowed around Jaskier’s length, and Jaskier knew he wouldn’t last long. Especially not with Geralt and Eskel in front of him, looking so incredible that he knew it would feature in his dreams for _years_.

He could see Geralt’s cock peeking out from between his folds, could see the desperation for stimulation in his movements, and – without ceasing his short, erratic thrusts into Lambert’s throat – he reached forward and stroked the slick red nub between his fingers. Geralt shouted, hoarse and wordless, grinding down hard against Lambert and against Jaskier’s hand, and that was all it took for Jaskier to surrender his own control and come down Lambert’s throat for the second time.

Eskel heard and felt it when Lambert came again, had Geralt in his arms as he shouted and came, and from the deep groan Jaskier let out, the bard had come again as well. Eskel groaned into Geralt’s neck and let his strict control over his body relax, hips jerking and cock grinding deeper in Lambert a few more times before he too reached his peak.

The four of them came many more times that night, and by the time the sun rose over the horizon they had exhausted themselves and had worked the aphrodisiac out of Lambert’s system. They were a mess of sweat and slick and spend, curled together beneath the one blanket they’d managed not to ruin, when Vesemir cautiously came to check on them once the sun was clear over the keep. Jaskier was the only one to stir when the old Witcher poked his head through the door, and he smiled sleepily at the old man.

“They’re all fine,” he whispered, yawning. “We all are. Just tired.”

“Rest, faeling,” Vesemir murmured back. “And when my pups wake up, let me know and I’ll prepare food.” He paused just before he closed the door, and looked back at Jaskier. “You’re welcome to stay the winter, bard. Any winter.”

Jaskier beamed at him, and Vesemir’s mouth twitched with a suppressed smile as he closed the door and headed downstairs. He had many chores to do if he was the only one doing any today.

**Author's Note:**

> As with my other Witcher fic, apologies for any OOC-ness


End file.
